


8th-11th October 1946, Paris, France

by emmbrancsxx0



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmbrancsxx0/pseuds/emmbrancsxx0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BASED ON THE PARIS FLASHBACK OF "THE ONLY MOMENT WE WERE ALONE." They say Paris is the best place to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	8th-11th October 1946, Paris, France

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Only Moment We Were Alone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038988) by [emmbrancsxx0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmbrancsxx0/pseuds/emmbrancsxx0). 



> This is an expansion of the Paris flashback in "The Only Moment We Were Alone." (Aka, this is my apology for that fic.)  
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the BBC Merlin characters.

_8th October, 1946_

It was a strange thing to be so high above the world. Merlin looked to his left out the small, reinforced plastic window at the billows of clouds towering below them and swiftly getting left behind in their wake. They were turning pink against the fading sun, and the sky above them was already navy and twinkling. He'd never seen the top of a cloud before, and he wasn't sure if he should have been excited or terrified that he could now. Intermittently, the clouds parted and he caught glimpses of green fields or blue waves thousands of miles below, and miles looked like inches in a miniscule world.

For a brief moment, his mind turned to the morbid, and he wondered about the airplane falling from the sky and spinning, uncontrolled, towards the Channel or the land. Would he crash or drown? He thought he'd prefer crashing. It was an unnatural way to go, but drowning must have been the worst possible way that he could think of to die. Drowning is slow, and one knows the inevitable is coming without hope of escape. At least crashing would be quick.

But that wasn't going to happen. He tried to tell himself that people took flights all the time; just because he was there didn't mean something would go wrong. He just wished his first flight had been in one of those open cockpit planes, that way he could feel the wind on his face and stretch out his arms in freedom. That would  _really_  feel like flying, not sitting in a large, ratting tin that made his ears clog up with pressure. It felt like being underwater already.

The plane lurched downward, making Merlin's stomach drop along with it, and his entire body tensed until the plane corrected itself.

"Merlin, relax," Arthur said from the seat next to him, and at once Merlin realized he was clutching onto Arthur's hand on the armrest between them. He blushed softly from embarrassment, withdrew his hand, and glanced around to make sure no one had seen. Luckily, the row across the aisle from them was empty, and a stewardess wasn't in sight.

"Turbulence happens sometimes," Arthur kept on, his voice patient. "We'll get there in once piece. Just keep your eyes off the window—the inside is just like a train."

"Maybe for you, but it's not like any train I've ever been on," Merlin quipped, and he was right. The seats were too soft and made of leather, with lots of legroom and a headrest. And a woman came by every so often offering them snack, water, a warm towel, or a blanket. He supposed the people in the cabin on the other side of the curtain didn't have the same luxuries, but that's why Uther paid so much money for these seats. Merlin was almost stuck back there, and he was grateful that Arthur talked his father against it: He couldn't imagine his first plane ride without Arthur next to him.

"So, what's first when we get to Paris?" Merlin asked, deciding to push his thoughts of an imminent death away to something more exciting.

"Dinner, I should think," Arthur said, casting a look at the back of the seat in front of him. On the other side of it was Uther, and next to him sat Morgana. "Father's already booked a table somewhere."

"And then what?" Merlin was practically bouncing with anticipation. He had been ever since Arthur asked him to accompany him to France. Uther had a medical conference in Paris, and he invited Arthur and Morgana along for a holiday. As far as Uther knew, Merlin was only coming, too, as Arthur's manservant. Somehow, Merlin thought if he knew the real reason, Uther wouldn't have allowed it.

"Then we go to the hotel and turn in for the night," Arthur said, and Merlin smile faded slowly.

"What? But I thought—"

"Merlin, it will be too late to do anything by the time we've finished eating. All the attractions will be closed," Arthur explained, his tone now preoccupied as he took out a magazine from the seatback pocket and starting flipping through it idly. "Besides, we've got nearly three days before we go back to England. That's plenty of time to see everything."

He glanced at Merlin, whose brow had creased with a disappointed frown, and Arthur dropped his shoulders with a deflating sigh.

"The hotel has an excellent view of the Eiffel Tower in the meantime," he said, and Merlin perked up slightly at this.

Behind Arthur, a woman in a tight red skirt and matching heels and a white button-up appeared. Her plump, crimson lips were stretched into a too-big smile as she leaned down and held out a tray in offering. "Champagne?"

"Ooh, lovely," Merlin said, his spirits completely lifted as he took the flute with hands as steady as he could muster, but Arthur politely waved her away.

Merlin grunted with pleasure as he took the first sip. "Oh, why aren't you tasting this? It's great!" he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "And it's  _free_!"

"It's plane champagne, Merlin," Arthur told him.

"No, it's  _first class_  plane champagne," Merlin corrected before taking another sip.

"Is there any other?" Arthur wondered. He closed the magazine but kept it on his lap. "When we get to the hotel, we'll get you something real."

Merlin smirked out of the side of his mouth. "You're just trying to get me inebriated so I'll put out."

"That's the general plan," Arthur admitted. He leaned in close and pressed his warm lips against Merlin's jaw, and his fingers slid into Merlin's inner thigh, rubbing deeply.

" _Arthur_!" Merlin hissed, trying to force him off. He looked at the crack between Uther and Morgana's seats in front of him. They were still looking forward, but that could change any second.

"Relax," Arthur told him again. "No one can see."

"Well, they  _will_  be able to see in the hotel," Merlin reminded him. "Your father and Morgana."

"We have separate rooms—probably on different floors," Arthur said, and Merlin could feel his warm breath on his neck. It made him have to inwardly count to ten, and he was clutching onto his champagne glass almost tightly enough to snap it. "It'll be just me and you and thick walls so no one can hear us."

He gave Merlin's thigh a squeeze. It made every muscle in Merlin's body tremble and elicited a gasp that gave Arthur a smug air.

"And I expect  _lots_  of screaming," Arthur finished in a whisper. He let go of Merlin and sat straight again, acting as though nothing had just happened. Merlin, on the other hand, was pulsing, and it was very hard to control his swallowing and breathing.

"I—uh," he began, his voice thick at first, so he cleared his throat. He couldn't stay there, so flustered and so out in the open. He began shifting in his seat to stand up. "I have to go to the toilet."

"No, you don't," Arthur said shortly, picking up the magazine again, and sliding down slightly so that his legs blocked Merlin's escape.

Merlin looked at him with wide, horrified eyes, but Arthur didn't return his glance. He kept looking at the magazine, but Merlin was sure he wasn't reading a damn thing because he was smirking too much.

Knowing it was a lost cause, Merlin sat back in his seat, crossed his legs tightly, and looked out the window again in attempt to expel Arthur's words from his mind. The sun had gone down completely now, leaving only darkness and scattered blips of light from the houses and cars on the land below. None of it was a very good distraction.

Merlin tipped up his champagne glass and gulped down the remaining liquid in one go.

* * *

Merlin took a sharp breath of preparation as he got off the plane and into the gate, and it took almost all his willpower to not shout exuberantly about having stepped foot in another country. Did an airport even count? He wasn't certain, but the Pendragons and everyone else shuffling off the plane were cool and collected, so Merlin kept his calm while following them through the airport, all the way to baggage claim.

They got their luggage rather quickly, and it was piled at Merlin's feet as Uther said, "The car should be waiting for us outside," and then began to walk away with Morgana in his wake. Arthur shot Merlin a humored glance before nodding down at the bags and walking off, too.

Merlin let out a chocked sound as he watched the three head unburdened towards the doors, and he blinked down at the four bags with a complete sense of all the injustice in the world. However, he supposed this was  _technically_  the reason he was there, and he had to make his alibi realistic. Determinedly, he managed to juggle all the bags and follow as fast as he could after the Pendragons. It was awkward at first, but he eventually fell into a new rhythm of walking, and he even found the ability to pluck a tourist pamphlet off a rack before the doors.

Just as the load was starting to get heavy, they found a driver standing next to a black estate car, holding a sign reading  _Pendragon_  in carefully written letters. He relieved Merlin of the bags and stuffed them into the boot, and they all piled into the backseat. It wasn't until they were halfway to the restaurant did Merlin realize that he'd missed the moment when he officially stepped foot in France.

His dejectedness wasn't lifted when they got to the restaurant and the table was only booked for three, but Morgana convinced Uther to let Merlin dine with them. "Honestly, Father, you're always going on about how we should treat the servants," she said. "We have to take care of our own." Uther had the waiter set up another place at the small table next to Arthur, so that they were sitting almost shoulder to shoulder.

Merlin felt awkward and out of place at the table. He kept his eyes down most of the time and didn't order anything large or expensive. Soon, Arthur had taken to wrapping his ankle around Merlin's, rubbing Merlin's calf with the toe of his shoe, or running his fingers along Merlin's hip beneath the table. He was completely straight-faced while doing so, and kept on with the conversation, but Merlin felt his own cheekbones flare red. He was grateful for the low lighting of the restaurant, but that wouldn't save him for long. He tried to kick Arthur to get him to stop, but that only caused Arthur to torment him further. He slid his hand along the front of Merlin's trousers and kneaded with the heel of his palm.

Merlin had to bite at the inside of his mouth and white-knuckle the fork in his fist to stop himself from emitting strangled noises or letting his eyes roll to the back of his head. He thought he could escape to the toilet for a quick wank, but he knew how dirty that would make him feel in such an upscale place. Even if no one would see him,  _he_  would know, and he wasn't sure if he could live with the private embarrassment of soiling the atmosphere of such an establishment.

Thankfully, Arthur had the sense to stop once the bill came, giving Merlin a few minutes to cool off before they had to leave. It was hardly enough time, but he managed to control himself and made it to the car without incident. He knew Arthur wouldn't dare try anything so openly with Uther and Morgana present, but Merlin made sure to sit as far away from him as he could for good measure.

That allowed him the peace of mind to stare out of the window at the sights of the city as they rolled passed. Unable to hide his giddiness, he would often point to something famous or something that caught his eye and exclaim how remarkable it was. In the dark reflection of the glass, Merlin saw Arthur trying very hard to keep his gaze down—to not look at Merlin with a fond smile. He even failed sometimes.

Maybe it was because she had nothing to hide, but Morgana was much more open about her affection towards Merlin.

"Aren't you adorable!" she would cry out, and she would point other things out to Merlin as they drove passed them. Even Uther shot him humored half-grins from time to time.

When they got to the hotel, Merlin was thankful that the bellboy took the luggage up to their rooms as Uther checked them in, and the bags were already there when Arthur and Merlin arrived upstairs.

Their quarters on the third floor were massive, consisting of two rooms: a sitting room with a dining table and a pullout sofa, and a bedroom with a bathroom attached. Merlin whistled up at the ceiling at first glance.

"So, this is how the other half lives?" he said sarcastically before setting out to explore the room. He started with the table, finding a bowl of fresh autumn fruits, compliments of the hotel staff, and picked up a ripe, shiny red apple from the top. The other fruits shifted slightly in its absence as he took a bite of it.

As he chewed, his eyes caught a painting on the far wall, hanging in a gold frame over the mahogany butler's tray. It depicted a naked woman with a flowing, satin scarf lying in the sunlit grass. He cocked his head at it to look at it from a different angle.

"Fancy," he muttered.

Chomping down on the apple again, he started towards the bedroom, aware of Arthur following him around to watch his progress.

The bedroom was even larger than the sitting room, with a king-sized four-poster bed, and Merlin shouted incredulously, "That's supposed to be for  _one_  person?"

"Well, it'll be  _two_ ," Arthur explained, but Merlin was too busy looking around to pay him any mind.

Next, he stood in the doorway of the bathroom, which was equipped with both a claw foot tub and a glass shower and—

"Oh, Arthur, look!" Merlin exclaimed. "It's one of those  _things_! What is it called? A  _bidet_! That is so  _French_!—And fancy."

"I'm beginning to worry about you," Arthur said with a raised brow and a wrinkled nose as he appeared at Merlin's side, and Merlin shot him an amused look. "Anyway, you haven't seen the view yet. Come on."

Arthur grabbed Merlin by the wrist and led him towards the windows. When he pulled back the curtain, Merlin let out a gasp at the view beyond. A million white and multicolored lights from the city twinkled and, in the close distance, lit up a burnt yellow against the dark sky, was the Eiffel Tower.

He opened the windows to see it unobstructed and folded his arms on the sill, leaning into them speechlessly. He found himself grinning at the structure and the city beyond and listening to the conversations that he could not understand filter up from the street below for a long time until Arthur placed his palm between Merlin's shoulder blades.

"Nice, right?" he asked.

"It's brilliant," Merlin told him, turning his eyes back into the room to look at Arthur, who shone more radiantly than all the lights of Paris combined.

"I called ahead, told them to keep it lit all night just for you," Arthur responded.

For a moment, Merlin believed it, but then he reminded himself that Uther's influential reach was probably only narrowed to Kent and London.

"Did you?" he played along as he straightened out and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist. Arthur mimicked the motion, and he leaned in for a long, slow kiss that Merlin closed his eyes into. The outline of the Eiffel Tower still burned behind his eyelids.

As the kiss deepened, Arthur's arms enclosed Merlin more tightly, and his lips eventually strayed downwards and along Merlin's jaw line. His skin responded to the touch immediately, and he tilted his head to the side to allow Arthur better access to the base of his jaw.

He slid his knee between Arthur's legs, and he felt the stiff line of Arthur's arousal through his trousers. It reminded Merlin of the restaurant and how frustrating that was, and he knew this would be the perfect payback.

"No, no you don't," Merlin told him, releasing Arthur from his arms and pushing him away slightly. He laughed at Arthur's expression, confused and thrown off balance, and it was so hard not to kiss his plump lips stupid.

" _I'm_  going to run a bath in the fancy French tub first," Merlin told him matter-of-factly, remembering the apple in his hand and shoving a side of it into Arthur's mouth. He bit down on it and furrowed his brows at Merlin ambiguously. "And  _you_  can order some of that fancy French champagne you promised me."

Merlin raised a challenging brow at Arthur before pushing away towards the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

"You can join me when it's delivered," he called tauntingly over his shoulder.

Behind him, Arthur took the apple from his mouth and said, "You like this country, don't you?"

When Merlin reached the bathroom door, he allowed Arthur to see his smirk; and he tossed his discarded shirt to Arthur, silently praising himself when it landed perfectly, draped over Arthur's head.

* * *

"This dressing gown is  _so soft_!" Merlin groaned. "And so is this bed!"

They were lying on top of the streets, Merlin with his head at the end of the mattress and twirling his feet on the pillows and Arthur propped up on his elbow, facing Merlin on his side, the right way around on the bed. His bare torso still glistened with moisture from the bath, all the way to his hips where a towel was wrapped around, and his hair was tinted a shade darker by the water. Merlin's own hair left a damp mark on the duvet as he rolled over and sprawled out on the bed, letting himself sink into the comforter, and spilled the champagne in his hand.

"Oops," he laughed upon realizing what he had done and corrected his grip on the flute. Arthur chuckled, too, twirling his glass between his fingers.

"It's a fancy French bed," he said as Merlin sat up, cross-legged.

"It  _is_!" he agreed, his eyes lighting up. "You're catching on."

"You're drunk," Arthur observed, and Merlin tilted his glass upright and drained the last of his champagne. When he looked back down, Arthur hadn't removed his gaze.

"And  _you're_  staring," he countered.

"What if I am?"

Normally, Merlin would have gone red, but he was already a soft shade of crimson from all the alcohol, and he didn't feel coy at all.

"Just wondering," he said, placing his flute on the bedside table. "Do you like looking or touching more?" He plucked Arthur's glass from his hand, too, and set it next to his.

Arthur laid on his back as Merlin crawled on top of him, placing his knees and palms on either side of Arthur to look down at him intently.

"I'm preferable to both," Arthur said sly.

"Yeah, I bet," Merlin answered, not believing him for a second. He dipped his head down and kissed circles on Arthur's chest, taking the time to cover every inch of skin, simply because they were alone and he could. Arthur's skin prickled in the wake of Merlin's trails, and his nipples hardened when Merlin ran his tongue around both of them in turn.

Arthur got a hold of Merlin's biceps and massaged his fingers into them deeply through the fluffy cotton of the robe. "This  _is_  soft," he said in gruff tone, "but it's hardly fair."

Merlin hummed into Arthur's collarbone in response before picking his head up and saying, "Nope, it isn't. But you're not getting me out of it unless it's worth my while."

Arthur's eyebrows darted to his hairline. "Is that right?" he asked, accepting the challenge. Quickly, he tightened his grip on Merlin's arms and rolled them over so he was on top. Merlin laughed loudly at the dizzying motion and entwined their legs together. Arthur looked down at him with hooded eyes and Merlin gazed up at him expectantly, waiting for him to make the first move.

It came in the form of a hard, rough kiss that Merlin gasped into at first, and it took him a moment of shock before catching up and responding in kind. Their teeth knocked together occasionally, and Merlin was fairly certain he had bit Arthur's tongue at one point, but Arthur only reacted to it with a slight hiss. He ran his teeth down to Merlin's neck and sucked at the skin, and Merlin found himself subconsciously wrapping his legs around Arthur's waist and toeing off the loose towel around his hips. When it was off, Arthur reached down and grabbed at Merlin's thighs, digging his fingers in. His cock was full as it pressed against Merlin's flesh, and Merlin reached between them to take care of himself, hard and wet against Arthur's stomach.

"You're not being loud enough," Arthur told him between kisses, and Merlin supposed he was right. He wasn't used to being loud. They had become so accustomed to watching the door out of the corners of their eyes and keeping their noise level to a minimum. He wasn't used to taking his time to acquaint himself with every inch of Arthur's body at once, or shouting about it, and he was looking forward to it now that he could.

"Oh,  _that's_ why you've really brought me here," Merlin laughed through a hitched breath. "Then, go on, make me make noises."

Arthur grinned and him slid further down his body until his head rested at Merlin's chest, the friction causing the rope that held together the dressing gown to loosen, and it opened slightly. It allowed Arthur to bury his face into Merlin's chest, and the wetness of his kisses mixed with salty sweat. Merlin squirmed underneath him, pushed down on his shoulders, and tangled his long fingers into the tuffs of his golden hair.

Arthur gripped at Merlin's hips to hold him steady and to lift his ass off the mattress. Merlin let out a loud yell when Arthur thrust inside, and the shout made Arthur hum with humor and satisfaction. Merlin's thighs tightened around him as he continued to thrust in deeper and faster, and he dragged his palms up and down Arthur's arms, matting his hairs down with hot sweat.

"Come on, Merlin, come on," Arthur demanded, sending his body down harder each time to elicit choked moans out of Merlin.

"Oh, Jesus, shut up, will you?" Merlin told him, and he felt his stamina fading already. After Arthur teasing him all day, he was shocked he hadn't lost it sooner. "Oh,  _god_ —Arthur!"

"You're not leaving this bed until we go back to England," Arthur grunted, clenching tighter onto Merlin's hipbones. "We're not leaving until we fuck a hundred times."

Merlin didn't know whether it was the thought of what Arthur said, or the fact that he'd cursed in that haughty, upper class voice of his, but he lost all control. He came in a sticky mess between them, shouting so loud he was sure it reached the street below; and Arthur followed quickly after, not bothering to muffle his yells into Merlin's chest. He pulled out after he softened, but stayed on top of Merlin, both too spent to move.

"That's more like it," Arthur said after a while, and Merlin rumbled with laughter. Arthur joined in shortly, and the vibrations shook Merlin as they reverberated throughout his body.

Arthur lifted his hot cheek off Merlin's chest and placed his chin there instead, staring up at him with mischievous eyes. Merlin shuffled slightly to make himself more comfortable beneath Arthur, whose body was still pulsing just as completely as Merlin's, before returning the expression.

"Was it worth your while?" Arthur asked, and Merlin didn't understand his meaning until he remembered he was still wearing the dressing gown.

"Yes, I think so," he answered, narrowing his eyes in mock thought. They'd probably soiled the robe, anyway. "But I might have to see that again."

Arthur was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

_9th October, 1946_

Merlin finally convinced Arthur to leave the hotel room in the evening, and Arthur had the concierge book them a table at the restaurant at the base of the Eiffel Tower before they headed for the Louvre. Arthur lent him a tie for the occasion but all his dinner jackets were too broad for Merlin, so he wore his ordinary autumn jacket over a white button-up and slacks. He felt somewhat underdressed next to Arthur, ever in a waistcoat and dress trousers, but Arthur assured him the other tourists would likely be in more casual attire anyway.

They arrived by taxi at the Tower fifteen minutes before their reservation so Merlin could take a look around. Again, it was lit up a pale gold against the dark sky, and Merlin's breath cascaded in a fog around him as he gasped at the structure across the lawn.

He hadn't realized that he'd stopped dead until Arthur placed a palm gingerly on the small of his lower back and whispered, "Come on; let's get closer." Merlin let Arthur guide him up the pathway with his eyes fixed on the Tower, running his gaze up and down it a dozen times. Around them, there were other tourists weaving around each other; photographers snapping pictures with giant cameras and blasting light bulbs; and the occasional beggar or merchant. Merlin paid them no mind and, soon, they were striding through the arches at the Tower's base.

"My god, it's  _massive_!" Merlin shouted, his wide eyes searching every inch of the inside. He had a fleeting moment of disappointment when his voice didn't echo, but it passed when he looked above him at the ironwork that seemed to stretch up to the sky. "I feel a bit like I'm looking up someone's skirt," he admitted, and Arthur chuckled.

"Only  _you_  could put it so eloquently, Merlin."

Merlin was practically glowing when he brought his gaze back to Arthur, and he wanted more than anything to kiss him right there, but then he remembered the other people around. But Arthur appeared to be sharing the feeling, and Merlin couldn't decide which was more breathtaking: the sensation of smallness he got while standing beneath such a giant structure, or the way Arthur was looking at him.

After a quick stroll around the lawn, they went into the brasserie and were seated right away, and Merlin tried not to lose his optimism as he looked at the menu and realized he couldn't understand a damn word.

"Is cheese an option?" he asked before scanning the menu again and smacking his lips at it a few times in thought.

"Merlin, there's an entire section on cheese," Arthur responded from over his own menu. "It's  _fromage_."

"Oh," Merlin answered weakly, finding the heading at the bottom of the menu. It was close to the desserts, so he figured he couldn't order a plate of cheese for an entrée, no matter how much he wanted to. "Right . . ."

"Let's start off with a wine first, yeah?" Arthur suggested right before the monsieur came over, and he and Arthur started speaking to each other in French. It shocked Merlin at first, but all he could do was smile pleasantly and hope Arthur had it all under control.

"I didn't know you could speak French," Merlin said, sounding impressed, when the waiter walked away. To this, Arthur rattled off another sentence in French, and Merlin's brows darted up in a humored expression.

"Alright, fine, I confess," Arthur said, back in English. "That last sentence made absolutely no sense. I know very little French."

"Well, it's enough to get by with the menu," Merlin offered, and Arthur shrugged.

"I suppose," he answered. "Morgana is so much better at it than me. I would always copy off her during lessons. But, in my defense, she had the upper hand, being from here and all."

Merlin cocked his head to the side in perplexity. "I didn't know Morgana was from here. How? Your parents aren't French."

" _Mine_  aren't," said Arthur. "Her mother was. Morgana was born here." Off Merlin's shocked look, Arthur continued, "It was years before my parents were engaged."

"So . . ." Merlin said slowly, trying to piece everything together. "Your father had another wife, before your mother?"

Arthur chuckled a little awkwardly. "Oh,  _no_! No, Father met Morgana's mother here when they were both very young, while he was on holiday. She was . . . she was a maid in the hotel he was staying in," Arthur explained a little hesitantly. "He didn't even know Morgana existed for the first year of her life, until she showed up on his doorstep. Her mother died of some illness that year." He gave a small wave of his hand. "I don't know what it was."

For a moment, all Merlin could do was blink. "Uther was in love with a servant?"

Arthur took in a sharp breath to say something, but then he closed his mouth again and looked thoughtful. "Well," he said after a beat. "I suppose."

"And he still treats us like we're not people?" Merlin blurted out before he could stop himself, and Arthur looked almost offended.

"I think he treats you well," he said after clearing his throat. "He pays you enough, gives you food and shelter, pays for any medical bills . . ."

"That's treating us as expenses, not people," Merlin countered, even though he had to admit Arthur was right. He could have had it a lot worse. He sat back in his chair with a heavy breath. "I would have never expected that he'd ever be in  _love_  with a servant! I would have thought he'd see himself as above that. I mean, if he ever found out you and I were in love—"

Arthur's eyes were hard when they darted to Merlin, and Merlin shut his mouth tight in horror over what he'd just said. They never used that word before. In fact, they went very much out of their way to  _not_  use that word. But Merlin felt it. God, he felt it every day.

But he couldn't, because Arthur couldn't.

"I mean, not that we  _are_!" Merlin choked out hastily, giving a nervous laugh and blowing out his cheeks. "Just . . .  _hypothetically_. I didn't mean that you are—or that I am!"

Across from him, Arthur had gone pale and his expression was blank, and Merlin felt his stomach drop. He suddenly found himself second-guessing everything.

What was he doing there? Why had he allowed Arthur to take him all the way to a different country to wine and dine him? In fact, why did he let himself into Arthur's bed night after night? Was Arthur just using him, or did he feel the same? No, he wouldn't. He couldn't! A future wasn't possible for them, and Arthur wouldn't be stupid enough to trick himself into thinking otherwise. Merlin tried not to think on that too much, but he always wondered: Did Arthur love him anyway? He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"I'm just saying . . ." Merlin finished lamely in a whisper, unable to swallow passed the lump in his throat or to make eye contact with Arthur. He couldn't bear to see his expression.

To distract himself, he picked up the menu again and said, in a shaky tone that sounded too forced to be casual, "So . . . fromage is cheese, then?"

The rest of dinner was full of awkward silences, and they barely spoke a word to each other on the taxi ride over to the Louvre. Arthur was too busy brooding, and Merlin obsessed over what he might have been thinking in his quietness. For a while, Merlin considered asking him to take him back to the hotel. He just wanted to go to sleep—to be unconscious for hours so he wouldn't have to dwell on the thoughts circling his mind. But he wanted to seem like everything was normal, too. Merlin always knew the fact of their relationship; his slip at dinner didn't change anything. So he pushed a pleasant face and tried to keep his eyes bright at the notion of seeing the  _Mona Lisa_ inperson.

When they arrived, the museum's fountains were lit up and glistening despite the chill in the air and the clouds rolling in, and the large glass pyramid marking the entrance emitted a warm glow. Surrounding it on all sides, people could be seen inside the windows of the ornate wings of the museum; and the roundabout was lined with black limos, taxis, and cars from which men and women in fine clothing emerged.

"Oh, no, I forgot," Arthur muttered, and Merlin furrowed a brow at him in worry. Arthur turned his head to shoot Merlin an apologetic expression. "Father told me about this, but I didn't realize it was tonight. The conference he's attending—it's hosting a gala at the museum tonight."

"Oh," Merlin said, feeling a little let down now that he had no choice but to cut the night short. "Well, it's alright if we can't get in. The outside is lovely—"

"No, we can get in," Arthur told him at once. "My name is on the list, and you can be my plus one. But we'll have to deal with annoying hospital patrons, if you don't mind?"

Merlin shrugged and gave a grin that he hoped didn't look too cynical. "I'll just be looking at the artwork," he promised. "You won't even know I'm there."

Arthur furrowed his brow at Merlin incredulously. "Why ever would I want that?"

Merlin caught Arthur's eyes for the first time since the evening began, and he realized at once that there was no going back for him. He wasn't just in love with Arthur; he always would be. Even if he couldn't be. Even if it was killing him.

Their gaze held until the taxi came to a halt at the end of the line of cars. Arthur paid the driver and they slid out of the backseat.

"Good thing we decided to dress well," Arthur murmured as he watched a woman in a long, ruby gown and a man in a tuxedo stroll by, and again Merlin felt severely underdressed in his fall jacket.

Still, he followed Arthur into the glass pyramid and descended the stairs into the grand, spacious lobby, and Merlin gawked at the entrances and corridors that led down to the far wings as Arthur checked them in. They were pointed in the direction of the gala but handed a map anyway, which Merlin unfolded immediately and began to scan.

"Oh, Arthur, they've got an Ancient Egypt wing! Do you think they'll be mummies?" Merlin exclaimed, and Arthur looked over his shoulder at the map as they walked.

"I don't think we'll find out," he said with a sigh, pointing at the color-coded map. "It's on a different side than the one we're going to. That wing is probably closed for the night."

Merlin pouted slightly but had no choice but to accept it, so he shoved the map into his jacket pocket and looked around the area as they walked, stopping every now and again to look at a statue or run his palm down the carvings in the wall. The Louvre was even larger on the inside than it originally looked, which was a feat, and he wondered how anyone could ever get through it all. He supposed most people were only interested in the more famous works, many of which had signs pointing tourists in the right direction. When they reached the large stairwell of the Denon wing, Merlin was happy to see they were headed towards the  _Mona Lisa_.

At the top of the stairs, they entered a long, wide hall lined with a myriad of Italian and Spanish portraits and landscapes, and the rumble of indistinct chatter filtered up towards the tall ceiling as men in suits conversed, the women on their arms laughed, and the waiters serving them passed out hors d'oeuvres and champagne. At once, Merlin observed that each and every one of them was taking their location completely for granted. No one seemed to be paying the works of art any mind, but he was determined not to let that influence him.

He pulled Arthur into the first room on the right, which was full of medieval works, and prayed for humanity's sake that someone would be more receptive to the art in there; however, the song remained the same.

"They don't know how lucky they are," he muttered in disbelief.

"What?" Arthur asked, but Merlin only shook his head and decided to focus his energies on the paintings.

He didn't know very much about art. In fact, it would suffice to say he knew absolutely nothing about it, but it was still fascinating to see pieces from another era. These paintings had lasted centuries and were still in mint condition, and they deserved a reverence that no one else in the room was giving them. Merlin took his time at each one, either commenting about it or staying silent, and Arthur waited patiently and, at times, read Merlin whatever he could decipher from the plaque next to the work. It turned out Arthur was right: He didn't know very much French at all, but Merlin still listened, grateful for the contribution. At times, Arthur would stand too close, making their shoulders brush together comfortably, and Merlin would become distracted and have to take an extra minute or so at the particular work they were viewing at the time.

When they were halfway through the room, a familiar voice called from over the din, "Arthur?"

They both spun around to find Morgana, in an elegant emerald colored dress, striding towards them with a large smile.

"I didn't expect you to show up!" she chided at her brother, who rolled his eyes, before turning her attention on Merlin. "Merlin! Don't you look dapper," she said with genuine enthusiasm before kissing him on both cheeks in welcome. It made Merlin smile at the floor bashfully.

"I clean up well," he joked modestly.

"Don't tell me my dear brother dragged you along tonight?"

"Actually, I dragged him," Merlin told her with a shrug. "I wanted to see the museum."

"Oh, so you've been playing tourists today?" she laughed, looking at Arthur teasingly. "How very unlike you, Arthur. What else have you seen?"

Merlin gulped, trying not to panic, and there was a beat before Arthur responded, "We went to the Eiffel Tower."

"Is that all?" she inquired with a raised thin brow, her eyes darting back at forth between them expectantly. Merlin looked at the floor again. There were many times when he thought Morgana could see right through them, and this was one of them.

Arthur cleared his throat a little awkwardly and hissed, " _Yes_ , Morgana."

For a moment, she looked like she might laugh, but instead she said to him, "Well, Father will want to know you're here, and to meet some of his oh-so riveting colleagues. He's just in the other room; I can take you to him." Her eyes fell on Merlin again as she said, "That is, if you don't mind me stealing him away for only a few moments?"

Merlin was just about to answer politely when Arthur said, "Why should he care? He does what I say."

His voice sounded hostile, and Merlin's jaw dropped and he blinked in shock as he turned a scathing glare towards him. Arthur's shoulders were rigid in defense and, Merlin didn't know whether or not it was what happened at dinner, but he couldn't let it slide.

"No, I shouldn't care at  _all_ ," he spat, not bothering to mask his annoyance. "In fact, you can take him all night, Morgana. I'll just keep quiet and have a look around. Whistle for me if need your tie adjusted,  _sir_."

Arthur was looking at him with a hurt, sorry expression that Merlin tried very hard not to let get to him. Morgana, on the other hand, was biting back a smirk as she said, "Well, like I said, it will only be a few moments."

She hooked her arm through Arthur's elbow and shepherded him towards the other room, whispering something to him as they went. Whatever she was saying, it made Arthur's posture tense in irritability. Merlin watched them go with a mixture of anger and misery until they disappeared into the crowd, and he tried to take his mind off of Arthur by looking at the paintings. However, he did a lousy job at it, and he half-considered leaving the museum and going back to the hotel alone, eager to curl up in bed and sleep until they went back to England.

He didn't know why he stayed. Maybe he was just hoping that Arthur would rush back to him, slide to his knees, and profess his undying love for Merlin in front of everyone. It was a foolish dream, but it was enough to keep him browsing the pieces.

After a few minutes of waiting and ambling mindlessly, he wandered back into the main hall and busied himself with the works there. About halfway down, he noticed Uther standing amongst the crowd, speaking carefully with an intense-looking bearded man whom Merlin did not pay much mind. After a few more words, the two men shook hands firmly, as though coming to the end of a negotiation, but the only thing Merlin registered was Arthur's absence. If he wasn't talking with Uther, where was he? Merlin felt himself growing angry again as he turned away, not wanting to make eye contact with Uther or his colleague.

Over a half hour later, he found himself staring up fixedly at a statue of a woman with a stag at her side and a quiver of arrows on her back. It stood in the very center of the wide corridor, away from the groups of people chatting on the sides of the wall. He stood there for a long time, his mind clear and unthinking in the presence of the statue. It had a strange calming effect on him.

"Very striking, yes?" came a sudden voice from behind him, and Merlin broke eye contact with the stone to look at the newcomer at his side. The man was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with piercing brown eyes that almost looked black, sun kissed skin, and dark, long hair pulled back into a tight ponytail with shorter strands falling loosely around his scruff.

"Oh, yes," Merlin answered breathlessly before realizing he'd done so. Once his mind caught up to him, he shook his head and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, yes. It is," he said with more control, and the man smiled handsomely at him.

"She is ze goddess Artemis," he said in a French accent, his English pronunciations somewhat broken, "of ze hunt—and ze moon."

"Is she?" Merlin asked, his eyes now completely off the statue in favor of the new man. "How do you know?"

"Ze plaque," the man said with a chuckle, pointing down at it, and Merlin looked a little embarrassed.

"Oh," he said, laughing at his own stupidity. "Well, between you and me, I can't speak French, anyway."

"Zat is okay," the man answered disarmingly. "Zere are many here tonight who cannot speak it, but you are the first to admit it." When Merlin's only response was another light laugh, the man went on, "You are English, yes? First time in Paris?" He pronounced it  _Par-ee_ , and Merlin thought he might die on the spot.

"Yes, actually," he admitted. "I'm here with my b—" He stopped himself, realizing at once that  _boyfriend_  was also a word they avoided using, whether because of themselves or everyone else; and he didn't quite know how to refer to Arthur anymore. "My friend," he decided on. "His father is here for the conference. They brought me along, but I'm not really sure why."

"Perhaps you are good company," the man offered.

"Yeah, maybe," Merlin answered bitterly.

"I believe you are," he said. "Tell me, what else 'ave you seen in ze city besides ze Louvre?"

"Well, I've been to the Eiffel Tower," Merlin said with a nod of exuberance.

"Ah, of course!" the man said happily. "You must! It is so beautiful." A waiter passed with a tray of champagne, and the man reached for two and offered one to Merlin.

Merlin took the stem with a nod of gratitude and said, "And  _you_  are the first Frenchman to admit  _that_."

"Yes, well, it is 'ard," was the excuse. "I am from Paris, and when you look at such a marvelous thing each day, you become blind to it. You must begin looking for beauty elsewhere."

He looked pointedly at Merlin as he said it, and Merlin found his cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson. He took a sip of the champagne to hide it.

"My name is Cenred Brodeur," he said. "My father is on ze board of a 'ospital 'ere in town. I am 'ere only to, 'ow do you call it? Make him look good."

Merlin laughed openly at this and nodded his agreement. "I hear that. It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it!" When Cenred chuckled deeply, Merlin said, "I'm Merlin Emrys."

Cenred looked taken aback, which Merlin expected. He usually got strange looks whenever he introduced myself. "But zat is lovely!" Cenred said, quite to Merlin's shock. "Em _r_ ys. It is Welsh, is it not? It means  _eternal_."

"Does it?" Merlin wondered. "I didn't know. I—How do  _you_  know that?"

"I know many languages," was the answer. "Mer _lin_  Em _r_ ys," Cenred went on, rolling the r's and l's in the name. "'Ow enchanting."

"Yours isn't so bad, either," Merlin said, not able to stop himself, and he didn't want to. If Arthur could shunt off to some other part of the wing and leave Merlin all alone, then Merlin could flirt innocently with a hot Frenchman. "I bet you can't tell me what I'm thinking though?"

Cenred mocked consideration for a moment before saying, "You are thinking . . . You wish to accompany me to ze next room to view ze  _Mona Lisa_."

Merlin gasped at his words. "What, it's in there?" he asked in surprise, pointing excitedly to the room over Cenred's shoulder. He had no idea he'd been so close. When Cenred nodded, Merlin collected himself and said, "I would absolutely  _love_  to accompany you."

Cenred led him into a room full of gigantic landscape portraits, some of which had canvases that took up entire walls. As Merlin pondered on how long it must have taken to paint them, he almost missed the small portrait in the center of the room, given its own wall despite its size. His eyes went wide as he saw it, and he rushed straight for the rope barrier in front of it to get a closer look.

Again, there were many people flittering about the room, but none of them paid any attention to the most talked about painting of the entire Western hemisphere.

"You are lucky you came when zere are no tourists," Cenred told him after he gave Merlin enough of a pause to appreciate the work. "Usually, you cannot get very close. It is too crowded."

"Well, I think I'd prefer that," Merlin told him honestly, looking around the room. "They don't even seem to care!"

"Yes, it is very upsetting," Cenred agreed.

"I  _know_! I mean, it's the  _Mona Lisa_! It's brilliant! Mind you, it's bigger than I expected it to be. Everyone talks about how surprisingly small it is, so I always pictured it to be—," he gestured his hands into something close to a square-meter, "—that big, but it's actually a good size!"

He looked back at the painting, completely enraptured by it, and then said apologetically with a wrinkled nose, "And it's a bit . . . plain. I mean, no offense!" Although, Cenred didn't paint it, so he wasn't sure why he'd take offense. "I just mean, well, look around. There are so many pieces here that are just so much more . . ."

He couldn't think of the right word, but Cenred seemed to understand. He nodded and said, "Yes, perhaps if she had not been placed in ze world's most famous museum or been painted by ze world's most famous artist, she would 'ave lived in obscurity. 'Owever, zat is only because people do not realize sometimes ze most beautiful things are ze most simple—ze things you do not expect at first glance."

He was looking at Merlin again, and Merlin had to bite at his lower lip and look away.

"Tell me, Mer _lin_ ," Cenred said at once, "'ow long are you in Paris?"

"Oh, um," Merlin said thoughtfully. "Just a few more days. I've only just arrived last night. We're headed back to England once the conference is over."

Cenred's eyes lit up and he gestured widely. "Zat is enough of time! You should allow me to take you around ze city. I can show you many things!"

Merlin raised a brow at this and scanned Cenred up and down. "I bet you could," he muttered, but he suddenly felt guilty about it. This was all well and good when it was just harmless flirting, but now Cenred wanted Merlin to have a Parisian holiday with him. It was tempting, until Merlin remembered he was already on a Parisian holiday with someone else.

"Listen, Cenred, that's very nice," Merlin said, bracing himself. "But, well, it's complicated."

Cenred shrugged, not understanding. "'Ow is it complicated?"

"I'm here with my friend," Merlin told him.

Cenred looked around for a moment before saying, "But 'e is not 'ere with you."

Merlin let out a soft choking sound before admitting, "Well, no, but . . . He should be back any minute. He didn't want to leave, I'm sure. It's just . . . It's . . ."

"Complicated?" Cenred offered, and Merlin nodded a little sadly.

" _Mer_ lin!" he heard echo through the room, and Merlin's head wasn't the only one to swivel towards the source. Arthur was pacing towards them quickly and, when he got to Merlin's side, said, "I've been looking for you everywhere." Before Merlin could do anything but blink, Arthur looked at Cenred and asked, a bit warily, "I see you've made a friend?"

"Yes," Merlin answered. "This is Cenred. His father works at one of the hospitals here in  _Par-ee_."

He tipped his glass at Cenred and the two laughed softly, but Arthur looked like he wanted to punch something.

Instead, he offered his palm to Cenred stiffly. "Arthur Pendragon," he introduced himself simply, and the two men shook hands so firmly that Merlin saw their knuckles go white.

"Ah, 'ello, Ar-tur," Cenred said. "I 'ave 'eard very much about you."

Arthur's eyes flashed to Merlin as he asked, "Have you?"

"Not  _very_  much!" Merlin insisted quickly. "Just . . . things. We've mostly been discussing art."

"Yes, I can see that," Arthur answered, sounding somewhat despondent as he looked behind Merlin at the portrait. "You saw the  _Mona Lisa_  without me. I thought maybe you would have waited for me."

Merlin shook his head and shrugged like he didn't know why it was such a big deal. "I didn't know you would have wanted me to wait for you, Arthur."

Arthur let out a bitter snort. "Would you have if you had known?"

" _Yes_ ," Merlin answered with all his heart.

The two caught each other's eyes and silently understood that they were no longer talking about the  _Mona Lisa_.

Cenred must have sensed it, too, because he cleared his throat to rein Merlin and Arthur back into the moment. Once he received their attention, he said, "I'm very sorry, but I must find my father. Ar-tur, it was very nice meeting you. And Mer _lin_ —," he bowed low, and Merlin almost blushed again, "—Enchanté."

"Well, enchanté yourself," Merlin said flirtatiously, only half aware that Arthur's eyes had gone wide.

Cenred straightened out again and said to Merlin, "I wish you an  _eternity_  of 'appiness."

Merlin watched him go until he was out of the room, and so did Arthur. As soon as Cenred was out of sight, Arthur rolled his eyes and said, "Well, he was very . . ."

"Sexy?" Merlin provided with a raised brow.

"I was going to say 'dramatic,'" Arthur said, looking annoyed. "'Over the top,' maybe."

"Jealous?" Merlin asked, allowing only a moment for Arthur to see his smirk before turning back to the  _Mona Lisa_  and draining his champagne glass.

" _Yes_ ," Arthur answered fiercely.

"Good," reposed Merlin.

There was pause, and then Arthur smacked Merlin upside the head, eliciting a soft howl of pain.

"Hurt?" Arthur asked angrily.

" _Yes_!"

" _Good_!"

Merlin glared at the wall next to the  _Mona Lisa_ , feeling all his infuriation from the evening bubble to the surface. He should have never have come to the gala.

He should have never come to Paris.

"Right. I'm leaving," he said decisively, dipping down to place his champagne flute on the floor before stomping towards the exit of the room.

" _What_?" Arthur asked in disbelief, trailing after him closely.

"I'm going back to the hotel," Merlin told him matter-of-factly. "But I wish I was going to Kent. No, actually—," he rounded on Arthur and finished with a glower, "—I wish I was going back to London."

"You don't mean that," Arthur said, looking wounded, but Merlin no longer felt guilty about it. "Look, Merlin, I'm sorry."

He reached his hand up to brush Merlin's shoulder but, before he could, Merlin stepped away.

"I'm going to sleep," Merlin told him, turning back around and walking as fast as he could towards the steps.

" _Mer_ lin!"

Arthur trailed him until they were back into the biting chill of the night. Drizzling rain dampened Merlin's hair and shoulders as he walked purposefully towards the taxi stand beyond the courtyard, and the clouds covered any dream of seeing the stars or moon.

"Merlin, wait," Arthur demanded, jogging in front of him and holding out his palm to his chest. "I'm jealous, alright? Is that what you want?"

Merlin stopped walking abruptly to scowl at him.

"No," he answered thickly, honestly. "I want you to—"

_I want you to love me._

Merlin felt his heart break in the unspoken words, knowing that he could never utter them.

"I want you to leave me alone," he whispered, and Arthur's hand dropped from his chest. Merlin shoved passed him and continued to the taxis, aware that Arthur had spun around to watch him go.

Just as Merlin opened the door to the first taxi in the line, Arthur seemed to finally realize that he wasn't kidding. He called Merlin's name again, rushing towards the cab, and Merlin quickly informed the driver of his destination. It pulled away from the curb before Arthur could reach it.

Merlin had some money, but most of it was still in pounds. He only had about five francs on him, and that was hardly enough to get him even halfway to the hotel. He asked the driver to let him out a few miles from the Louvre, and he attempted to get the cabbie to point him in the right direction of the hotel, but it was impossible due to the language barrier.

For a moment after the taxi pulled away, he felt the coldness of the night set into his bones, and he panicked. It was late. None of the shops were open anymore and there was barely anyone on the street except for bums and loud groups of teenagers. He was in a foreign city with no cash, and he knew absolutely no one, nor could he communicate with them. He didn't even know his way back to the hotel.

He cursed himself for not staying at the Louvre, for acting so rash. He could have given Arthur the cold shoulder, and it would have only enraged Merlin further, but at least he'd have a way back to the warm hotel room at the end of the night. Next, he kicked himself for not taking Cenred up on his offer. At that point, he could have really used someone who knew where they were going, even if that path led Merlin somewhere other than the hotel.

Forcing himself to think, he looked at his surroundings in hopes that he would recognize something. He didn't, but the taxi was taking him down along the Seine, so Merlin figured it was best to keep in that direction. Shoving his hands into his pockets and huddling in on himself for warmth, he started down the cobblestone banks of the river, which sloshed with waves crashing against the stone barriers below. Soon, the light of the Eiffel Tower caught his eye and he stopped walking to look up at it. It was in somewhat of a haze from the rain and the distance but, if he could only get parallel to it across the river, he could find the hotel—or at least find the general direction it was in. It was a start.

It took longer to come upon the Eiffel Tower than expected. Every time he thought he was close, it seemed to retreat from him with every step. Finally, he caught up to it and, getting his bearings, picked a direction. It took him two hours, which felt like a lifetime, to find the hotel, and it was already well into the midnight hour when he reached the room. He noticed right away that Arthur wasn't in it, which only incensed him further. He expected Arthur to jump in a taxi and follow after him, but he obviously hadn't. He was probably still at the party.

Merlin was freezing, soaked, hungry, and miserable. But his exhaustion won over, and he pulled out the small sofa bed with more strength than usually necessary before tearing off his tie and stripping his jacket, shoes, and button-up until he was only in trousers, socks, and an undershirt. Then he curled up into a ball beneath the single sheet, hugging his arms tightly around his chest and trying to get warm as he stared into the darkness and begged sleep to take him; but he was too tired for it.

A little before half-passed two, the door to the room opened again, and Merlin saw a stretched out silhouette from the threshold paint the far wall. There was a pause before Arthur shouted in a mixture of relief and anger, " _Mer_ lin!"

Merlin didn't respond. He kept his back to Arthur, unmoving and trying to pretend he was asleep. It was childish, but he didn't feel like speaking.

"Where the Hell have you been?" Arthur demanded, shutting the door and moving to stand next to the pullout sofa. "I've been searching for you for  _hours_! You weren't anywhere in the hotel when I got here. I thought maybe you'd gone straight to the airport, but then . . . I don't know what I thought. I was worried  _sick_! I was about to phone the police!"

Merlin wanted to smile in the knowledge that he wasn't the only one who had a rough night, but all he could bring himself to do was grimace, even though Arthur couldn't see it.

Arthur let out a deflating sigh behind him.

"I know you're not asleep, Merlin," he said, softer now. "What are you doing on that small cot? Come to bed."

"Why, so can fuck me again?" Merlin broke his silence to say resentfully.

"What?" Arthur asked, sounding off-balanced. "No, because that cot barely even has a sheet.  _What_  has gotten into you? Was it that bloke—that Cenred? What did he say to you?"

"He didn't say anything. He was only being nice," Merlin defended irritably, still keeping his back to Arthur. "He doesn't matter anyway. You were the one I went there with tonight, Arthur. And you were the one I wanted to leave with."

"Then why didn't you?" Arthur laughed bitterly. "I don't understand why you're angry with me! What have I done? Is it because of what happened with Morgana? Is it what I said?"

 _It's what you didn't say_ , Merlin wanted to tell him, but he settled for crossing his arms tighter and repositioning himself on the uncomfortable cot. He could feel almost every spring in the mattress, which protested whenever he moved, but he didn't care.

"Is it what happened at the restaurant?" Arthur guessed, but it sounded like more than just a speculation.

"No," Merlin insisted, but some of his anger left him in an exhale. "Yes. I don't know."

Arthur let out another sigh and sat on the edge of the cot. Merlin heard it creak and felt it shift under the new weight, but he found himself comforted that Arthur hadn't given up. In fact, he was placing a warm hand on Merlin's side, and Merlin felt some of his own tenseness slacken. He realized he was still numbly cold.

"I'm sorry for how I acted, Merlin," Arthur said genuinely, and Merlin believed him.

He suddenly felt so stupid. He didn't know why he'd gotten into his head that being in Paris would change anything. Their relationship had to stay the same, and Arthur wasn't dumb enough to forget that. Arthur knew what Merlin wanted, and maybe he wanted it, too, but he couldn't give it to him. Merlin kicked himself for being so thick.

"It's not your fault," he said remorsefully, looking up at Arthur over his shoulder. The lights from outside the window poured through and cast a dim light on Arthur's features, streaking them with the shadows of raindrops cascading down the glass. "I'm sorry, too. I'm being silly."

"No, you aren't," Arthur assured him.

"All those people there tonight—I don't belong in that world," he thought out loud, hoping it would console it. Hoping it would justify the inevitable future.

It didn't help at all.

"That's alright," Arthur told him. "Neither do I."

That did.

"Can you lay with me?" Merlin asked innocently. "Warm me up?"

Arthur smiled softly and nodded down at him before wrangling off his tie and taking off his shoes, waistcoat, and shirts. He pulled the thin sheet over him and tucked in close to Merlin's back, wrapping his arms around him like he didn't plan on ever letting go. Merlin snuggled in close and felt warmer instantly, and he distractedly played with Arthur's fingers into the stretching silence.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," Arthur said into his hair after a long while.

"Were you really about to ring the police?" Merlin wondered, suddenly finding that part of the situation humorous.

Arthur snorted a laugh. "I thought about it," he admitted. "But not that. I was talking about that Cenred chap. He looked about ready to whisk you away."

Merlin chuckled at Arthur's jealousy, finding it touching. In Arthur's own way, it only meant he didn't want to lose Merlin.

"God, he was  _so_  sexy!" Merlin said, burying his face into Arthur's hands, and Arthur let out a barking laugh.

"He was a bit, yeah," he admitted, sending them both into another fit of laughter.

* * *

_10th October, 1946_

Arthur's arm was still draped over him when Merlin was awoken by the sunlight spilling into the room. It sparked off the Tower in the distance and brought with it the noises of the street below. Arthur was snoring softly behind him, and Merlin felt overheated and clammy in the close contact, but he didn't want to move. It was inexplicably comfortable in a way he wasn't used to. This was the second time he'd woken up to the Arthur. In fact, it was the second time he'd woken up to anyone. It felt good—intimate, something only they could share in the early hours of the morning without the rest of the world invading. It felt safe.

A quarter of an hour later, Merlin heard Arthur's breathing pattern change. He signaled that he'd woken up by giving a full-body stretch that simultaneously strengthened his hold around Merlin before slackening again. He yawned and, momentarily, asked in a groggy voice, "What time is it?"

There was no clock in the sitting room, so Merlin grabbed Arthur's wrist and lifted his arm slightly to check his watch.

"Almost eight-thirty," he answered, letting Arthur's arm drop on top of him again.

Arthur groaned in response and burrowed his face deeper into the pillow as though it would stop time's passage.

"We could stay longer," Merlin told him. "Have breakfast in bed."

"Mm, this bed's uncomfortable," Arthur said, his voice muffled. "And small."

"You'll just have to stay close, then."

"True."

There was a pause of silence before Merlin said hesitantly, "Arthur? I really  _am_  sorry for last night. I was horrible."

For a moment, Arthur said nothing, and Merlin's heart skipped a beat. Then, Arthur shifted and propped himself on his side, and Merlin turned over on his back to look up at him with suspense in his eyes.

"You were not," Arthur told him, but Merlin wasn't so ready to let himself off the hook.

"You stayed out all night looking for me," he insisted.

"Yeah, and I would have stayed out until sunrise if I had to," said Arthur matter-of-factly. "If it hadn't been for Morgana, I'd probably  _still_  be out there."

"Well, I'm happy you found me," Merlin said weakly, and Arthur cocked his head at him.

"I'm always going to find you, Merlin," he said like it was a fact.

A corner of Merlin's lips twitched upwards and he held his palm on the nape of Arthur's neck, idly stroking the baby hairs. Arthur dipped his head down into a slow kiss, and he didn't break it until Merlin was smiling into it fully.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Merlin asked, his eyes sparkling brightly again as he beamed up at Arthur.

"Well, you mentioned Versailles," Arthur told him. "We could take a trip out there. And, since we really didn't get to look around at all last night, we could try the Louvre again? We could go to the Ancient Egypt wing—find your mummies. If you want . . ."

Merlin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'd like that," he answered.

"But, first, breakfast," Arthur told him.

"No, first, kiss me some more," Merlin corrected.

Arthur did so without complaint, and they didn't get out bed until the bottom of the hour. Afterwards, they dressed and went to the lobby for a quick breakfast before calling for a taxi. They took a train out to Versailles and spent a few hours touring the rooms and apartments and leisurely strolling along the gardens. Every now and again, Arthur would inform Merlin of something about the castle or King Louis XIV from what he remembered from his schooling. Between those tidbits of information and eavesdropping on English tour guides whenever they passed by, Merlin thought he got a good sense of the château's history, but he was contented just to see the place itself.

After lunch in the village, they headed back to Paris and took another shot at the Louvre; and, whether purposefully or subconsciously, they avoided the Denon wing. As the sun began to set, they meandered along the river, which was much more charming than it had been the night before. Its choppy water mirrored the lights and the dark silhouettes of the row of buildings on either side of it, and Merlin and Arthur stopped in the middle of a bridge to watch the water flow until the pink sky turned navy.

They returned to the hotel to shower before dinner, but they became distracted for a reason that was absolutely Arthur's fault for having such bitable skin and parading it around without a shirt on; and they ended up missing their reservation. After not very much debate at all, they decided to order room service and stay in for the night.

"What did  _you_  think of Versailles?" Merlin wondered as they lounged on the bed. Arthur was laying back with his hands folded behind his head, wearing only his trousers, and Merlin scanned his eyes along the lines of his sides and the curves of his torso and chest every time they rose and fell in a new breath. Next to him, Merlin was sitting in his dressing gown, cross-legged but close, his knees gently touching Arthur's side.

"Was it strange to find out there people richer than you?" Merlin went on teasingly.

"Come on, Merlin," Arthur told him. "There are  _plenty_  of people wealthier than my family."

"Oh, yeah?" Merlin challenged with a raised brow. "Bet you can't name five." When Arthur only rolled his eyes in response, Merlin went on, "I never thought I'd say this, but at least you're humble about it—only a little, though. And, by a little, I mean you don't have gold lining the ceilings and walls of your home."

"Didn't you hear? Father's planning on having that done," Arthur answered dryly. "I told him you'd be up for the task."

Merlin snorted. "Not a chance," he said. "I do have standards, you know?"

To this, Arthur pulled a face and said, "You're sleeping with your boss."

Merlin skewed his eyes up to the ceiling and puckered his lips in feigned evaluation. "They're very shallow standards," he joked.

"At least you have good taste," Arthur played along. He grabbed Merlin's wrist, and Merlin let himself be jerked like a doll down towards Arthur and into a kiss. It didn't take long for the kiss to deepen, especially when Merlin dragged his palm roughly down Arthur's stomach and slid it beneath the front of his trousers. His fingers massaged Arthur deeply, causing humming and frustrated grunts to escape Arthur's throat and send puffs of warmth into Merlin's mouth.

Arthur had already hardened up for him when he broke the kiss for a gasp of breath, into which he said, "Merlin—," but Merlin shushed him and wrapped his fingers around Arthur's shaft. He worked it by intermittently switching from slow and fast motions, and Arthur bucked and squirmed into his grip while his muscles tightened and his skin prickled.

He didn't fight back a loud moan directed at the ceiling, but Merlin kept his eyes locked on Arthur's expression. He let his hand move without command as the friction heated both of their bodies up. Arthur's cheeks were flushing a soft shade of crimson and beads of sweat formed on his chest. Merlin grinned at the noises he was making, which were becoming more uncontrolled and frequent. With another long moan, Arthur came into his trousers, and some of the hot mess warmed Merlin's fingers before he slid his hand back out.

Arthur laid still on his back, trying to catch his breath, and stared up with a satisfied look on his face. Merlin looked smug, and there was a knock on the door that Arthur hardly seemed to register.

"Must be the food," Merlin said as Arthur blinked back into the moment. "I'll get it."

He leaned in and pecked Arthur's cheek once more before kicking his legs off the side of the mattress and heading into the next room. He stopped momentarily at the mirror to flatten his hair, but there was nothing much he could do about the red heat in his cheeks.

"Tell them to set it up at the table," Arthur called from the bedroom, and Merlin made his way fully to the door.

However, when he opened it, he felt his breath catch in his throat in shock.

"Lord Pendragon!" he shouted before he could stop himself. "And Morgana—uh,  _Lady_  Morgana," he continued, trying to correct his tone and his expression in Uther's presence.

In the next room, he could imagine Arthur jumping up from bed to straighten out the sheets and throw on a shirt—and, for god's sake, change his trousers. Merlin hoped he wouldn't forget to do that.

Before him, Uther surveyed him quickly with an indifferent expression that Merlin had come to know as his "kind face," and Morgana looked like she was biting back a fit of laughter.

"Mr. Emrys," Uther greeted him with a stiff nod. "I heard there was a bit of a mishap last night."

"Oh, um—," Merlin began awkwardly. He didn't know what Uther thought happened. "Yes, sir. I—I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Nonsense!" Uther told him at once, clapping a hand onto Merlin's shoulder. "The Louvre is a very big museum. It is very easy for one to get lost in it. I can see why Morgana and Arthur were so worried about you."

"Yes," Merlin agreed, relieved to know that Uther thought he'd gotten lost instead of running off. He figured that was Morgana's doing, so he shot her thankful eyes. However, she still looked humored. "Thank you, sir."

Uther looked down at his hand on Merlin's shoulder, and he let out an unsure noise as he scanned Merlin's attire and released him. It made Merlin remember that he was almost naked in front of his boss and a Lady, and he tried to pull the robe around himself modestly.

"I, um—I was about to take a bath," he said, thinking quickly, and Uther seemed to accept it.

"Of course," he said, sounding disinterested. "Is Arthur in?"

"No!" Merlin said at once, and then there was a loud thud from the bedroom. It sounded like Arthur had fallen down, which signaled to Merlin that he was frantically trying to hop into a pair of trousers unaided. At least he'd remembered to put on a new pair.

Merlin's eyes grew wide and he sucked his lips in as Uther's gaze shot to the bedroom over his shoulder. Morgana only looked amused.

"Oh, did you mean, is he in the bath?" Merlin said, trying to save himself and buy Arthur some time. "Because he is  _definitely_  not in the bath. But he's here! Where else would he be?"

Uther's eyes narrowed at him in thought but, before he could question Merlin further, Arthur appeared from the bedroom, wearing a white shirt that was fully buttoned and shoved loosely into black trousers. An undone tie hung from around his neck.

"Father, Morgana," he said as though their presence was a pleasant surprise. He crossed the room to the door and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Morgana and I were just about to go downstairs for dinner to celebrate our last evening in Paris," Uther told his son. "We wondered if you'd care to join us?"

"Oh, I'm sorry to miss it," Arthur lied casually, sounding truly apologetic, "but I'm afraid I'm not very hungry. I had a late lunch. Besides, I'm rather tired."

Behind Uther and Morgana, a uniformed man with a cart of food wheeled up and said, "Bonsoir, messieurs et madame. Service de chambre."

Arthur's jaw clamped shut and Merlin froze; Uther looked perplexed and Morgana looked like she was about to blow a gasket if she didn't cackle soon. They each stood to the side automatically to let the waiter roll the cart through towards the table.

"That's for Merlin," Arthur blurted, obviously not able to come up with a better excuse.

Morgana watched the waiter set up the food on the table and asked with a raised brow and a mocking tone, "All of it?"

"Yes," Merlin answered when he remembered how to breathe. "My mum keeps telling me I need to put on weight, so . . ."

Uther looked him up and down again and said, "Yes, you certainly need it." And Merlin tried not to be incredibly offended.

"But didn't you just say you were about to take a bath, Merlin?" Morgana asked just to instigate the situation.

"Yes, I  _did_ ," Merlin sang, mentally kicking himself. "I, um—I like to eat in the bath."

He tried not to roll his eyes at how stupid that sounded.

All three Pendragons turned their heads slowly towards Merlin with the exact same judgmental and bewildered expression, and Merlin gulped under the scrutiny. There was an unbearable silence until the waiter rejoined the group and held out the bill for Arthur to sign. Before he could, Uther gestured for the paper and signed it, and the waiter retreated.

"Yes, well," Uther said, clearing his throat. "We shall leave you both to it, and we'll see you tomorrow evening to leave for the airport."

"Yes," Arthur agreed, already gripping the side of the door to close it. "Goodnight, Father. Morgana."

Uther turned away, and Morgana shot them one more entertained look before following after him, and Arthur closed the door.

"You like to  _eat_  in the  _bath_?" Arthur said as soon as they were in private, and Merlin let out awkward sounds and shrugged.

"Well, I do—sometimes!" he defended, which only served to make the excuse stranger. Arthur wrinkled his nose and looked at him in confused thought. "Do you know how late I have to work every day?" Merlin shouted in lieu of an excuse. "You think after you fall asleep, I'm done for the day? No! I have to do more of  _your_  chores!  _And_  I have to wake up early every morning. I'd like to sleep  _some time_ , Arthur, so sometimes I have to multitask!"

Arthur held up a palm to stop him. "Alright, fine," he said, blinking the thought away. "I really don't want to know the details, Merlin."

Merlin gave a deflating breath, and the reality of what had just happened caught up to him. It made him panic.

"Oh, god, you don't think he suspects, do you?"

Arthur seemed a lot calmer. "Of course not!" he promised. "The thought probably hasn't even crossed his mind."

"But Morgana," Merlin said. "You saw her face. Do you think she knows something?"

"Probably," Arthur allowed, and he didn't look halfway near as worried as he should have. "Morgana knows everything."

Merlin must have looked frantic again, because Arthur continued, "Relax. Even if she has figured it out, she doesn't have any proof—not unless you give it to her. And she wouldn't tell Father, anyway. She's evil, but not  _that_  evil. So take a breath, Merlin."

Merlin followed the advice and took in a large bout of air that only made him feel infinitesimally better.

"Good," Arthur said, starting for the table. "Now, come eat with me. Unless you'd rather us eat in the bathroom?"

Merlin let out his breath and glared at Arthur.

"Oh, you're hilarious," he said facetiously. "You were waiting to say that one, were you?"

Arthur only shrugged lightly.

* * *

_11th October, 1946_

Merlin awoke to the touch of Arthur's satin lips on his neck and arms wrapped around his torso. It wasn't a horrible way to wake up, and he was smiling softly before he even opened his eyes to the sunlight.

"Stop it," he laughed tiredly.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Arthur said before planting one last kiss and burying his forehead into Merlin's shoulder.

"Yeah, that's what you wanted," said Merlin blandly, his eyes fluttering open to the room. He realized this was the last time that would ever happen. He felt a strange sensation in his stomach at leaving this part of the world behind. He'd become so accustomed to that room, and he couldn't picture another guest staying there once he'd left, sleeping in the bed that he shared with Arthur. He felt like a piece of him would remain and haunt the walls; but, come nighttime, he'd have his feet in a different country. He didn't quite know what to make of that feeling, either. It was all so new.

"Mm, I was  _hoping_ ," Arthur said. He kissed the bare skin along the back of Merlin's shirt's collar and squeezed Merlin in close. He splayed his fingers on Merlin's stomach, rubbing up and down so the hem of his shirt lifted over his bellybutton.

" _Arthur_ , I mean it."

He didn't really.

"I haven't even woken up properly," he went on. "I have morning breath."

"You have good morning breath," Arthur said, lifting his head up to kiss Merlin's cheek.

"No, I haven't," Merlin said in a light tone. He snuggled in closer until he felt the warm, strong press of Arthur's bare chest against his spine. "And neither do you!"

Arthur emitted a humming laugh into his collarbone. The sound ran through Merlin's body from head to toe. The sheets rustled around him as he rolled over and snaked his arms around Arthur's waist.

"What time do we have to be at the airport?" he asked into Arthur's chest, breathing him in. He smelled like hotel soap and the lingering familiarity of Camelot Manor, but the faint scent of motor oil hid forever beneath the veneer, known only in close contact—known only to Merlin.

"Not until six," Arthur told him. "That should give us time to see everything we haven't."

Merlin smiled flirtatiously at this and asked, "What makes you think I don't want to spend our last day here in bed?" He substituted his cheek with his chin on Arthur's chest to look up at him through his eyelashes.

"Because you haven't even seen the Notre Dame yet," Arthur told him with a skeptical arch of his brow.

"I guess you're right," said Merlin. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

"Or we could have more time to do that," Arthur said with a shrug, making Merlin's smile weaken in perplexity. "Let's stay here."

Merlin gave a chuckle. "Okay."

"I mean it," Arthur insisted, and something in his tone told Merlin he was being genuine. "Let's not go back to Kent. Let's just stay here, you and me. What's stopping us?"

"Well, my mum, for one," Merlin said. "I can't just leave her. And, besides, we've both got responsibilities."

Arthur pulled a face. "I don't  _want_  responsibilities."

Merlin's eyes flickered down from his briefly. "I don't want you to, either."

"You just don't want to run away with me," Arthur said in a mock-pout.

Merlin snorted bitterly. "Of course, I do," he admitted. "But . . . we have to be realistic."

He tried to smile, but only managed to tweak one corner of his mouth up for a fraction of a second, so he readjusted his hold on Arthur and replaced his cheek on his chest. He could hear Arthur's heart beating steadily.

"We can come back here," he suggested hopefully.

There was a pause before Arthur said, "No. We'll go some place else. We've seen France. How about Italy? Or Spain! I bet you'd love Spain. We should probably steer clear of Germany for the time being, but . . ."

"America?" Merlin asked, his eyes distant and dreamy at the prospect.

He felt Arthur nod. "Absolutely."

"I've always wanted to see the Empire State Building in New York," Merlin told him. "When I was a kid—when it was being built—Dad would always tell me everything he'd read in the papers about it. They say it's the top of the world."

"Then, we'll get you there," Arthur promised. "Right to the very top."

Merlin smiled for real this time.

"It'll be like those stories your father used to tell you," said Arthur, "except, instead of a dragon taking you around the world, it'll be me."

"My  _Pen_ dragon," Merlin said, holding Arthur tighter, and his head rose and fell with Arthur's every breath.

"You promise?" he asked, just to make sure. "You're not just having a laugh? This'll happen—soon? We won't wait until I'm old and gray?"

Arthur's chest rumbled with a laugh against Merlin's eardrum.

"You're nineteen, Merlin."

"So? You'll be twenty-three next month!" Merlin reminded him. "You're almost in your mid-twenties. You'll be fifty soon!"

"Well, when you put it like that . . ." Arthur joked. Then, serious, he said, "We'll make it soon. I'll tell Father I want to travel, and I'd be utterly useless without  _someone_  to keep me in check."

"Which is true."

"It is," Arthur agreed in his strong tones. "We'll start planning in the new year."

"Then, it will be a good year," Merlin speculated.

He swiveled his head to look at Arthur again, and Arthur was regarding him with a soft, dreamlike expression and a half smile that made him appear to be lost in thought.

"What?" Merlin wondered under the gaze.

"Nothing," Arthur said in a breath, his eyes fluttering down to the curve of Merlin's mouth, and he leaned into it slowly.

Merlin opened his mouth into Arthur's, their warm tongues sliding together in leisurely movements; and they stayed like that for a long time until Arthur pulled Merlin on top of him. Merlin offered no resistance when Arthur sat them up, and he folded his legs around Arthur's hips to push their chests closer together.

Arthur was breathing heavily now, and Merlin's lips were trembling into the kiss as their saliva mixed. He grabbed at Arthur's cheeks, pressing the pads of his fingers in firmly, and whimpered softly into his mouth. He was already twitching and hardening in his pajama trousers as he felt Arthur's open palms run up beneath his shirt and over his back. The kiss broke long enough for Arthur to take the shirt off, but Merlin was back on top of him before the fabric was fully discarded on the floor.

"We—we—have to—get— _these_ —off," Arthur said in between kisses as he tugged at the hem of Merlin's pajama bottoms.

"Mhm," Merlin hummed without really knowing what he was agreeing to. He was too busy dragging his lips down Arthur's neck and along his shoulders. He kissed the muscles of Arthur's biceps before matting down the hairs of his chest with his tongue; and he went as low as he could until his body no longer bent forward. He wanted to take his time with every inch of Arthur's skin, because soon they wouldn't be in total seclusion. Soon, they wouldn't have the luxury of time.

He journeyed back up to Arthur's pink, swollen lips and kissed on and around them until Arthur moved away to nibble at the base of Merlin's jaw, right beneath his ear. He kissed it raw, and his breath felt too hot against the tender skin when he blew on it. Merlin's breath hitched; he clawed at Arthur's shoulder blades and angled his neck to the side to allow Arthur more leeway.

"I  _love_ —when you do that," Merlin gasped, catching himself at the last moment.

Arthur breathed out a laugh, and he moved to kiss every freckle lining Merlin's shoulders. Merlin closed his eyes tight, trying to focus on his own wet breathing and the press of Arthur against his skin, and he could feel his own heartbeat pulsing throughout his body. It was a distraction from his racing thoughts.

He ran his hands down Arthur's sides and dug his fingers into the front of his loose trousers. Arthur twitched and squirmed to the touch, and he let out a loud, chocked moan. Merlin folded his knees on either side of Arthur and rose up from his lap to palm off Arthur's pajamas; when he lowered himself again, he felt unobstructed how full Arthur was against his thigh.

"Come on, don't tease me," Arthur panted, flicking at the hem of Merlin's pajamas. Merlin obliged by sliding backwards far enough to lift his legs and jostle the fabric off. In the meantime, Arthur had reached over into the drawer of the nightstand and shuffled through its contents until he found the tube of lubricant.

Merlin stood up on his knees again, and Arthur held his breath as he watched him shuffle forward. He got in as close as he could, until his arousal pressed against Arthur's chest. Arthur dug his fingers into Merlin's ass and kissed his stomach hungrily, only taking in sharp breaths through his nose as needed, and Merlin tangled his fingers into Arthur's golden hair, pushed his head in closer, and groaned at the contact.

Arthur's hands felt up Merlin's back, reaching as far as they could go to pull him down, but just missed the turn of Merlin's shoulders. Merlin laughed out loud at his struggle before curling in on him and pressing a quick kiss to his hairline.

"Merlin, please," Arthur grunted, and looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"What?" Merlin teased, a large grin spreading on his features. "I didn't—I didn't quite catch that. Merlin,  _what_?"

" _Mer_ lin, you  _idiot_!" he said through his teeth.

Merlin's laugh was lyrical, and he smashed his lips onto Arthur's. They were still kissing heatedly as Merlin lowered himself back on to Arthur's lap, and he gave a hiss into Arthur's mouth when he slid inside.

Arthur gave a moan and fell back on the pillows. He brought his knees up behind Merlin's back and thrust his hips slowly up and down, causing Merlin to bounce with the motions. Merlin gripped at Arthur's sides, digging his fingers along the grooves and spaces in Arthur's ribcage, and tilted his neck up to curse horribly at the ceiling.

"Fuck,  _Arthur_. Jesus Christ!" he shouted. He felt himself sweat more, and he was sure his skin was flushed just as crimson as Arthur's had gone.

"God, you're incredible, Merlin," Arthur groaned as he continued his momentum. "You're fucking amazing."

He reached over and grabbed Merlin's thighs, holding them firmly enough to cause bruising. His fingers then explored up Merlin's lean legs around towards his pelvis until one palm finally brushed down his erection and the other held him steady. Merlin shuttered as Arthur worked it, and all the heat in his body shot to his belly. He felt like putty in Arthur's touch.

For a moment he wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him everything, but he couldn't, so he contented himself with chanting Arthur's name beneath his breath.

Arthur's rhythm quickened and, when Merlin looked down at him with hitching breaths fighting to escape his open mouth, Arthur was staring at him intently again and biting down hard on his bottom lip. Merlin's heart skipped a beat when their eyes locked, and he thought it must have been impossible to hide what he was thinking in his gaze. But Arthur didn't look away, and there was something in his eyes, too—something Merlin didn't quite have a name for.

But he didn't have time to think on it, because his body shook again and he started shouting indistinctly, and Arthur joined in soon after. His fingers dug deeper into Arthur's sides, and his muscles throbbed hotly. Arthur was warm and wet when he came inside Merlin, and Merlin came onto his lower stomach.

For a moment, after their bodies stilled and Arthur straightened out his legs down on the mattress, Merlin stayed straddling him. He breathed in deeply, trying to fight the air back into his lungs and attempting to calm his racing heart. Eventually, he rolled off and collapsed next to Arthur on the bed. One of the corners of the fitted sheet had snapped off, the top sheet and duvet had fallen to the floor.

Despite his body heat, Merlin shivered, so Arthur pulled him in close.

"Oh, god, Merlin," he said in a breathy laugh. "I'd have you look at me like that every day until the day we die."

Merlin buried his face into the sticky film of sweat on Arthur's chest.

 _I do look at you like that every day, you prat_ , he thought, and we wanted to say it so badly.

_Just never when you can see me._

* * *

After breakfast, they left their luggage with the driver and started in the direction of the Notre Dame. There was a nip in the air, but the sky was clear and the sun was glowing off Arthur's skin and outlining his hair in a bright golden halo. After meandering through the cathedral, they took a taxi to the Champs-Élysées to look at the Place Charles de Gaulle and the Arc de Triomphe, and lunched near Gare de Paris-Saint-Lazare before heading towards the Moulin Rouge. Realizing they had time to kill, they took a taxi back to the Eiffel Tower and took the lift to the top.

Merlin looked down over the barrier at the lawn and pathways below. The shops and attractions were playthings and the people were moving dots, scurrying around the fallen leaves and tan dirt, in the shade of the Tower. He then swept his dark blue gaze towards the distance, where the city expanded around him in every direction like a sea of glittering mirrors in the sunlight.

He turned his head to Arthur to see how he was enjoying the view, but Arthur was looking at him. He had the same enraptured stare as before, and Merlin was unable to look away from it.

"It's good, isn't it?" Arthur asked after a moment, nodding his head vaguely away from the iron towering over them. Merlin looked back out as though he'd forgotten the view.

"Yes," he said, folding his arms over the railing and leaning into them. "It's beautiful, Arthur. Now  _this_  is flying." He shook his head thoughtfully and continued, "You know, I never thought I'd see anything like this. I remember the Blitz. I remember having to only half-sleep every night, terrified that a bomb might whiz down from the sky on my flat. Terrified to hear those alarms go off, and that we wouldn't make it to the bunker this time, or the next—or the  _next_. Because it would never end."

Merlin's eyes were looking beyond a brightly lit Paris now, and he was only somewhat aware of Arthur's sky blue eyes boring into him. He felt like he somehow wasn't inside his body anymore as he let the memory carry him.

"And I remember thinking every damn night, 'This is it. Soon, all of Great Britain will be blown off the map, and everywhere else—There isn't an everywhere else. Not anymore. It's the end of the world.'" He blinked back into the present, and smiled with a mixture of sadness and joy as he nodded to himself. "But here it is."

His eyes met Arthur's again.

"The whole world is right in front of me."

Arthur looked like he thought so, too.

"I'm happy, Arthur," Merlin said before he knew he was going to, but he knew straight away that he was right. It wasn't a fleeting emotion; it was a state. He'd never been so happy before.

"I'm  _really_  happy," he said surely.

"Me, too," Arthur said, his words weighted. He leaned on the railing, too, and standing shoulder to shoulder with Merlin, slid their hands together.

Merlin gave Arthur's a firm squeeze, but then Arthur leaned in closer, and Merlin had to fight all his instincts to pull back.

"Arthur!" he hissed, searching the platform for anyone who might have seen. Everyone else was too busy enjoying the sights or talking.

"It's fine, Merlin," Arthur said calmingly. "We don't know anyone up here. We're never going to see these people again. Besides, don't you want to say you got snogged on top the Eiffel Tower? Calm down. Kiss me."

Merlin took another sweeping and wary look around, but he knew Arthur was right. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he wasn't going to pass it up for strangers or what any of them might have believed.

He closed his eyes and met Arthur's lips halfway between them, and he listened to the howling of the air in his ears as it whipped around the tower and combed through his hair; the autumn sun felt warm against his cheeks. Nothing else mattered.

The clouds were pearl and pink against a cool blue sky by the time they got back to the bottom of the Tower. They walked hand-in-hand, bumping together comfortably with each step, until they got too close to the car waiting for them in the car park on the opposite end. After they got into the backseat, the driver took them a few blocks over to the building that held the medical conference, where Uther had been all day and where Morgana had joined him hours earlier.

They parked outside the main entrance in wait for the other two Pendragons, and the driver got out to have a smoke in the meantime. Arthur and Merlin sat in contented silence, Arthur watching the cars pass by on the road and Merlin watching the stream of pedestrians on the pavements out of the tinted windows. Soon, the conference let out, and the doors of the building opened up to let out a steady flow of people. Amongst them, Merlin saw a familiar face, and he let out a gasp of happy recognition that made Arthur turn his head.

However, before Arthur could inquire about it, Merlin opened the back door and jumped onto the pavement.

"Cenred!" he called, catching the man's attention at once. A bright, handsome grin broke onto his face and he said something to the man with him, who must have been his father, before meeting Merlin halfway between where they each stood.

"Mer _lin_ ," Cenred said, sounding pleased. "I did not expect to see you again."

"Neither did I," Merlin admitted. "But I just—Well, I saw you . . . And I thought I should say goodbye."

Cenred's smile faded. "Ah, you are leaving so soon?"

Merlin's face darkened, too, but only a little. "'Fraid so."

"Zen stay!" Cenred beseeched him. "Zere is always more to see in Paris. It is a magical place! A different city every night."

"Yeah, I'm beginning to realize that," Merlin told him. "But I can't, Cenred. I have to . . ."

He bit his lip in thought.

"No, I  _want_  to—"

"Be with Ar-tur?" Cenred asked, and he had a knowing air about him when Merlin caught his eyes again.

"Yes."

"Even though it is complicated?"

Merlin nodded a little sadly.

"Zat is a good thing!" Cenred explained, his grin back even though it looked pushed. "Not  _only_  simple things are beautiful."

He gave a smooth bow that made Merlin blush ever so slightly.

"Au revoir, Mer _lin_  Em _r_ ys."

This time, when Cenred turned to go, Merlin did not wait for him to disappear into the crowd. He turned away, too, and the driver opened the backseat door for him to climb into. Once he'd settled in the black leather seat, he saw Arthur giving him a curious and wounded look that made Merlin smile breathlessly at his lap.

"I just wanted to say one final goodbye," he assured Arthur, and Arthur looked like he was grappling with the jealousy of the word  _wanted_  and the happiness of the word  _final_.

To ensure the latter would win the battle, Merlin shot into his personal space and planted a quick, pecking kiss onto his lips. When it broke, Arthur was giving him that lost stare again. He stayed leaning into Arthur across the seat and said, "I love Paris," because he could not say he loved Arthur.

The backseat door opened again, and Merlin immediately sat up straight and looked forward. Arthur corrected himself by clearing his throat and smiling a greeting at his sister and father as they slid into the seat across. The door closed once more and the driver rushed around the car to get in and start up the engine.

"Hello, son," Uther said with a slight inclination of his head towards Arthur, and the car pulled away from the curb. "I trust you had a good stay?"

"Yes, Father, very memorable," Arthur told him simply. "In fact," he continued and, only for the briefest moment, out of their corners, his eyes flickered over to meet Merlin's. "I think I love Paris."

Merlin bit back a smile and hid his sparkling eyes and the butterflies in his stomach from the others by leaning against the window and staring out of it. In the distance, above the tops of the buildings, he spotted the Eiffel Tower, already glowing gold against the darkening sky.


End file.
